Demons Never Sleep
by Yamato's Tiger Lily
Summary: A curse plagued the Shimada clan for generations: when a young Shimada hits puberty, he becomes a demon until it's shamed away. However, when his precious brother is violently murdered while delivering a family heirloom, he swore revenge. The first step: infiltrate the gang, earn his trust, and unleash the demon's blood within him. But those eyes... are so haunting...
1. Prologue: From Shame to Humility

It was inevitable I start an AU with these two as big as this. This came to me as a dream and of course, I altered it to make it work for them. Anyway, most likely I'll post the first chapter soon (I'm actually halfway through it for the first time in a long time) so please leave me your thoughts on this prologue!

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 **Demons Never Sleep**

 **Prologue: From Shame to Humility**

"Before one can learn humility, you must be shamed."

These words haunted the young demon as he felt the irons around his neck. It was something every male Shimada born into the family would have to face. He recalled the family legend:

Long ago, when the Shimada clan were simple rice paddy farmers, they had the misfortune of having animals constantly trying to eat their produce. It became such a problem that the men of the family would have to stay outside overnight to ensure the plants' safety. They would have to scare away the animals any way they could. Rarely, there would be nights where there wouldn't be anything out there.

One night, a young man had fallen asleep on duty. With the rustling of the grass, he woke up and scurried around the farm to find the animal before his father did. He knew he would've lost some of the rice paddies – but at least he didn't catch him sleeping. He could blame the animal for being so sneaky. Animals are sneaky, after all.

When he finally found the animal, he was shocked to find within the rice paddies a graveyard. Below him, there were remnants of livestock – possibly from neighboring farms. He screamed in horror at the carnage before him thus alerting his family. The men in the family got their pitchforks and torches, ready to fight whoever left such a horrifying mess. It wouldn't take too long before they found the creature responsible – an oni who had been found to be harassing farmers for months.

Even though they were simple farmers, the oni was outnumbered by the men. On the brink of death, the oni made a declaration.

"Your family can come and slaughter me but know this! For every child that is born a male would forever be cursed with my demon's blood coursing through their veins!" With the last of his strength, he grabbed the young man and forced him to drink his blood. Once the oni was sure the blood had been consumed, he passed away.

The Shimada family were worried and oversaw the young man, fear that he was poisoned by the oni, overnight. Thankfully, he survived the night and eventually resumed his work. The family set aside the oni's claim about the curse until the young man grew up and had gotten married.

The child seemed normal but the family was wary. Their fears were confirmed when the child hit puberty. Their skin would become darker than night and their eyes glowed an unearthly shine. Their fingernails would grow and curl. Their teeth would protrude and stick out. Fear consumed the family and they would keep the child hidden until they confronted a priest.

An exorcism wouldn't do much of anything but cause the child pain. Unsure of what to do, the family kept the child hidden until one day, somehow and someway, the ash skin fell off. His eyes had their pupils back. His fingernails rotted away and the fangs fell out. Confused, the family confronted the priest once again and the priest realized the son must be shamed into it. The boy was at his lowest when he was reborn as a human – he was shamed. Because of his shame, he was humble and never complained.

The priest promised the Shimada family, so long as the child has a home, the child will become human again. If the child was ashamed of his state, he will be reborn.

Hanzo remembered this story as it was ingrained into him. He looked at himself and indeed, his skin was black as ash and he knew his eyes had an unnatural glow about them. His fingernails had grown unnaturally and curled. His fangs protruded out.

His clan had long since heeded the warnings of both the oni and the priest and started a freak traveling show. All kinds of strange creatures roamed the grounds but everyone came for one thing. The centerpiece was himself – Hanzo Shimada. At puberty, right on schedule, the demon blood came out. He was warned by his father, but nothing could've prepared him for the pain. Did his father go through the same embarrassing ritual?

It was inhumane to put their own son in chains and iron. Hanzo had purposefully grew his hair long and tied it back – it was part of the shame. Soon, the younger Shimada brother, Genji, would face the same fate. He was only a few years younger but Hanzo had to be prepared to chain him in irons and display him as a disgusting trophy. For a while, Hanzo sat straight up and had all sorts of peoples ogle at him and be frightened by his appearance. It bothered him, but not more than anyone else would. He sat straight up and took in the shame. Nothing was more embarrassing than the last curt remark about the displayed demon. And yet, he didn't realize how much of a façade he had for his fragility.

In the strange land, somewhere he's not familiar with but it was hot. The sun felt closer than it had been. The irons had been especially hot even through the thick demon skin that coated all over him. He wore traditional farming clothing that has been passed down through generations but even through the light material, he still grew extremely hot. Thankfully, provisions were provided for him but that didn't make the heat any more bearable.

On this day, though, as hot as it was, an interesting young man passed by him. The young man had short brown hair and was quite tall. In his hand, he held a melting popsicle. His skin was tanned and he looked rough; but his eyes. Something in his eyes drew Hanzo in that no one else did.

He wasn't sure why or how but something in him stirred. Embarrassment stirred as did something else.

"Wow." The young man said. "Incredible." His drawl was strange to his ears. Hanzo didn't understand the words that came out of his mouth – but he still understood the meaning. The tone of his words took his breath away. There was a cool wind. Dust blew in between them but Hanzo kept his eyes on him. He felt he froze with time but soon the dust settled.

He reached out to the young man. The cursed, curled fingernails would pass through the cage to reach out. At first, the tanned young man stood back unsure of what to do. He looked around and Hanzo didn't even seem to care if anyone else were around them. In his eyes, it was just the two of them on this empty earth. Something about the young man before him drew the demon in.

Hanzo wanted to say something but he growled. It was unintentional but he couldn't speak normally with the fangs in the way. He couldn't speak in this awful form.

Once he was sure the coast was clear, the tanned young man drew closer to the caged demon. He reached the popsicle through the cage.

"Do ya want some? I know it's hot as hell in there. I don't know if they give ya water but…"

Again, Hanzo didn't know what he said but the action surprised him. The popsicle melted and it reeked of sugar – something he wasn't used to as he always worked on the show. He moved his hand to touch the popsicle and he could feel, through the thick skin, the other's touch. It was a moment's electricity that shocked through Hanzo. Was this supposed to happen? Was this part of the curse?

He gave him the popsicle and the young man slowly backed up. He looked at his fingers and his eyebrows raised. "Wait a minute, this is makeup! Hey! I want my money back!" He turned around and left the demon by himself. He yelled some more and soon all Hanzo heard were his echoes.

Hanzo eventually looked at the treat and noticed something – his fingernails weren't long or curled anymore.


	2. Chapter One: Death Do Us Part

So sorry this fanfic isn't as timely as it should've been but I had gotten some stomach problems. To make it up, I hope you guys appreciate it being extra long! Thank you, as always, for supporting me!

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 **Demons Never Sleep**

 **Chapter One: Death Do Us Part**

"Hanzo, you should really cut your hair."

Hanzo woke up to his younger brother's voice. The motion of the train had lulled the older Shimada to sleep. His brother, Genji Shimada, in turn looked ridiculous with his dyed green spikey hair. He grunted with annoyance. The two looked odd together. It was clear Hanzo still allowed his hair to grow and it was tied in a very traditional style. He still wore western clothing but Hanzo simply refused to cut his hair. His bangs feathered his face and nearly hid his eyes but he preferred it that way.

"And you need to stop looking like a cartoon character." Hanzo said, deadpan. The younger brother had smiled and laughed a little bit. It seemed the comment tickled him somehow and Hanzo could never understand why.

"You're the only one who ever says that to me since Father passed away."

It grew silent aside from the noises the train itself, and the other passengers made. It had only been a couple of years since the death of their father. He had been mysteriously ill for some time that doctors couldn't figure it out how or even why it happened. On one hand, their father always had an illness and seemed to be angry towards it. He never shared what happened in his past as the two grew up but he had a lot of anger in his heart.

Their mother would claim that the demon blood had consumed him. She said the two had met as children and she had seen a lot of the same things he had. The two brothers understood but it was still hard to truly comprehend what had happened. Despite living it for themselves, the Shimada brothers had disregarded it. They knew it was an illness their father had carried since he was young. They didn't understand why their mother wouldn't just admit that.

Because of their father's sudden death, the Shimada clan had to change their business strategy. Their father had refused to take either brother as an apprentice for the position as head – so instead, they became a courier service because of the travels and connections that still remained in touch. Genji and Hanzo would usually deliver different packages on their own but their mother begged them to do this one together.

The two had to help deliver an important package in the southwest of America. He had to bring along Genji to help translate between the distributors. However, the two brothers didn't know what they were supposed to deliver. The package was too big to be delivered by normal means. They had to personally deliver it themselves. Reasons known only to their mother, the brothers took this as a chance to get closer to one another.

Days and nights, Genji would often flirt with attractive men and women while Hanzo would watch him with disapproval. Always the more serious one, Hanzo disapproved of his brother's hobbies; but he never complained. Whenever Genji was away with a date, Hanzo would use this time to gather his thoughts for the future and gather the sights around him.

He remembered when they were younger and even when they had to suffer through their demon forms, he never got a chance to get a real look around the American southwest. Orange mountains littered the blue clear sky. The sun was brighter and closer as it always had been. The atmosphere reminded him of an oil painting he had seen once as a traveler. While the sun was harsh, the cool blue sky was endless but it was the orange mountains that kept him grounded on earth. It reminded him of that young man's eyes…

The 20-year-old Hanzo dreamed about that boy since he shed his demon skin. He had once told Genji about the young man and he claimed he didn't remember him. Apparently, Hanzo had been surrounded by a huge crowd that day he gave him a popsicle. Genji would joke about the day he shed his skin.

"Father was so angry! He didn't expect you to lose your skin so soon!" Genji laughed at the memory. "People were so angry, anija! They all demanded their money back. I think it was around then Father started the whole 'no refund' policy."

 _Were there people around us? How is it I don't remember?_ Hanzo had thought to himself on more than one occasion. Still, the young man's eyes haunted him. It haunted his dreams, his imagination, his… everything. It changed him. Something within him stirred.

"You're in love with a ghost, Hanzo," Genji reasoned. "Maybe you'll meet someone new. Forget about him."

These thoughts and memories would lull him back to sleep as the silence between the two Shimada brothers widened. Genji seemed distracted by something but if it didn't interrupt his sleep again and Genji remained focused, Hanzo was okay with it.

No matter how many times Genji told him to forget them, or even Hanzo himself, those eyes were always the first thing to pop up in his imagination. That dream, though, was different.

Instead of a figment of his past, it seemed to be a fragment of his future.

The young man was much older – his brown hair was the same length but he looked so much older. A beard covered his lips and chin. A red scarf-like garment was wrapped around his neck. A metal arm replaced the flesh. A giant revolver whose name he can clearly see – Peacekeeper. Instead of a peaceful, maybe loving, gaze, the expression on his face was angry.

And anger filled his own heart. No, actually, it wasn't anger. It was vengeance. He raised his arm – his arm was covered with the symbol of dragons that supposedly protected the family from any more curses – an additive that was tacked on the Shimada mythos to justify the tattoos. However, instead of his skin, it was the familiar skin of a demon. His fingernails were curled and long as it used to be. His breathing was heavy and he felt the usual fangs protruding. He couldn't speak.

An arrow was aimed at the man before him.

"Hanzo!" Someone yelled. Was it the man? Was it his own voice? Was it Genji? Was it his father's?

Once again, Hanzo opened his eyes and it seemed to be night on the outside. A full moon along a blanket of stars which protected the young man's heart. He could feel his heart beating and he was ready to fight if he had to.

Genji looked at him with a worried expression on his face. He could see his brother's worried eyes through the darkness. He didn't see the young man he had grown into but, instead, he saw the little boy who was afraid of losing himself once the cursed blood affected him. Immediately, Hanzo grew worried.

"Genji? What's wrong?" Hanzo felt a bit woozy from being suddenly awake.

"The train stopped." He whispered.

Hanzo didn't understand at first but soon realized it himself when he didn't hear the usual sound of the train moving. It seemed unnaturally quiet. No one made a sound. It was dark. The only light that was provided was the full moon glowing through the windows. The stars tried to give them guidance but it was the moon who provided the only warmth within the unmoving vehicle. And yet, when Hanzo's eyes looked amongst the passengers they seemed uncomfortably quiet. They seemed unnaturally quiet. Were they asleep? He idly wondered as he followed his brother.

He didn't recognize the area but he assumed they were seated by the cargo car.

Once they were inside, things had grown much darker. Genji switched on a flashlight he apparently had in his possession. Hanzo searched his own person and got out a small knife that he'd keep in case certain dealings went sour. Often, people would try to kill the messenger.

The two remained silent as they could as they made their way around the cargo that also traveled with them. Boxes were on top of each other with stickers from all over the world. They had to be more sensitive to their areas. Soon, they heard footsteps of unnamed people pass through them. They tried to remain undetected but Genji, always the curious one, tried his best to be stealthy. He was better at it than Hanzo was so Hanzo stayed behind.

The older Shimada was left in the darkness and with his knife. He tried to picture in his mind who'd be on the train and why. Could it be because they had something valuable or someone else's cargo on the train? There had been a string of train robberies lately – the reason why they had to travel together.

Before Hanzo got too comfortable, he heard something he never should've at his age: a demon's growl. A slam against cargo then more slams. Bodies clearly hit the ground and Hanzo had to immediately get to wherever Genji was.

It was tough to get through the boxed cargos in the darkness but once he saw the moon's light, he knew he was safe. However, once he stepped out, he gasped. He dropped his knife because of the shock.

The cargo unwrapped revealed a family heirloom. There were twin dragons made from bronze interlocked with each other. Instead of a glorious gleam, there was a copious amount of blood on it. He couldn't take it in and fell to his knees.

 _Who would desecrate our heirloom like this?!_ He couldn't speak – he was super shocked. Littered around him were nameless grunts from a gang he didn't recognize. Immediately, he was brought back from the shock.

"Genji!" He yelled out. "Where are you, Genji!" He grabbed his knife – or something he assumed was his knife – and tried his best to make it to where Genji might've been.

Before he could make it though, he heard a gunshot. Again, he stopped in his tracks. His heartbeat quickened as he tried to find the source of the blast. His hair got in the way and he moved it as best as he could. He could feel himself sweat from the intensity of everything around him.

"Genji?" he whispered. He feared anything louder might bring him to an unwanted truth.

Another demon growl echoed. "Genji!" Hanzo repeated himself in the darkness. He tried his best to make his way but he nearly slipped on more blood. He feared the worst.

Another gunshot echoed in the car but as Hanzo got closer, there was a flash of red he barely recognized.

Things had gone silent in the car. Hanzo worry grew to fear for the worst with every silent step he attempted to do. He wasn't very good at being stealthy but it was still doable.

"Anija," panted a familiar voice. Hanzo turned around, and sure enough, Genji lied on the ground as he clutched to his chest. He tried to bring his knees up to his chest but it was clear he had a couple of gunshot wounds to his chest. "Help me…"

The older Shimada bent down immediately, knocking the flashlight near him around on the floor, and tried to see if he could help his younger brother. When he turned him, Hanzo almost yelled in horror; he couldn't believe who this being was below him!

Instead of Genji's bright young face, his skin was white as it could be. Red horns stuck out of his head through his green spikey hair and by his jawline. Teeth protruded and curled. His eyes were yellow.

This was no longer Genji.

"A-anija… please… k-kill me…I-I… I'm a monster…"

He begged. The blood he held so close was still red but the horror upon this young man was apparent. Hanzo's mouth was agape as he tried to drink in what he could see. He looked at the blood, unsure if it was fake or real. Genji coughed. He hated his face.

"Do-don't look at me! I'm a monster!"

Soon, the sound of metal as footsteps continued to echo in the bloodied car.

Hanzo swallowed and grabbed the knife. It didn't matter if his brother looked this way. He could find a way to heal him. He would fix him. Shimada's demon blood would only last if his brother was shamed, right?

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" An unfamiliar deep voice now joined the brothers.

"Get out!" Hanzo said as he held the knife threateningly. Now that he was older, he understood English but for Hanzo, it was hard to parse it.

The strange man held up his hands. Now that Hanzo had a better look… there was a familiar glint in the man's eyes. It angered him. He couldn't deal with the man when his brother laid in his arms, dying. The man seemed to be about Hanzo's age but his hair was a mess. He had a patch of hair in between his chin and mouth. He wore denim jeans. On his plaid shirt, though, he had his precious brother's blood all over him.

"Look, he tried to kill _me_. I'm just tryin' to defend myself here! It looks like he took care of my gang though. Boss ain't gonna like that."

"Get out, I said!" He tried to cut his leg but the stranger stepped away. His English was very heavily accented but it was the only thing he knew. The stranger grew cold.

"Hey. I'm tryin' to help ya but if you don't want it, fine. I ain't gonna do shit for ya. Good luck dealin' with that."

He turned around and stepped back into the darkness with ease. Hanzo immediately turned back to Genji who seemed to turn back to his human, his more fragile, self.

"Genji… did that man do this to you?"

Genji's eyes stared up at him coldly as he didn't get a response. Hanzo looked closer.

Nothing. A void of darkness in his brother's eyes.


	3. Chapter Two: Survivor's Guilt

I apologize for not updating this as much as I should. There have been a lot of things happening all at once last week. I really appreciate it if you're still reading this fanfic! As always, please leave kudos and your thoughts! Thank you, as always, for supporting me!

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 **Demons Never Sleep**

 **Chapter Two: Survivor's Guilt**

"How dare you!" A slap echoed across his face. Hanzo never faltered from the screaming woman before him. "How dare you allow your brother to be killed! How dare you show your face in my sacred home!" Her hair had fell from its tight traditional hairstyle. Strands of black hair covered her pale face. Her eyes had been red from the grief that was wrought again in family tragedy.

Hanzo blinked.

"Are you okay, Mister Shimada?" asked the policewoman as she placed the paper cup filled with warm coffee on the table. "We were going over your eyewitness account about what happened on the…" Her words were muffled by the papers shuffling in her hand. She was a bit stout but she was very well-groomed and seemed extremely calm and collected. Her hair is tied up in a professional manner and her lipstick was bright on her lips. Hanzo saw nothing but grey in this brightly lit box they were in. He hadn't changed his clothes. The mark of Genji's blood had dried.

He looked down.

"And on top of that, you've allowed those filthy Americans to desecrate his body! 'For science', a Shimada would never!" her screams echoed in the empty hall. Hanzo would never dare to look his mother in her eye. "A Shimada could never! You know better than this, Hanzo! You know what blood flowed through his veins!" She smashed another vase. The vase's loud noise echoed and made Hanzo want to jump from fear. "You know what could happen… You don't want this blood to be exposed…"

A sigh escaped his lips.

"Just sign here. We'll have to do an autopsy, Mister Shimada." A tired older man passed him papers. He couldn't understand it. Everything blurred. He stared at it and he heard the older man sigh. "Do you need a Japanese translation, Mister Shimada?" He could read English fine; speaking it was the challenge. He slowly shook his head. He signed the document to the best of his abilities. He didn't have a choice but to give up his brother's body. Thankfully, he had become human again before he had passed on.

A tear slid down his cheek.

It rained that day. The ceremony was quiet. He had made a promise to his mother: after the funeral service, he would leave the Shimada clan. He will be as dead to her as Genji and his father was. He would never be welcomed again on the estate. He accepted the conditions.

The Americans refused to give up Genji's body which only fueled his mother's justified anger. They had claimed that they had somehow lost it in within the other nameless victims of the train. Hanzo was the only survivor found on the train that night. He did his best to never grieve - he didn't deserve to. He survived somehow. It should've been him instead of Genji. Relatives and business contacts came to give their funeral penance. Some tried to console Hanzo but he didn't respond. Most of the sympathies went to his precious mother who tried her best to keep it together. She couldn't help herself. She lost herself in the grief of losing both a husband and a son to this cursed demon blood. The surviving son was the one who shed his skin early and yet, he survived without a cut. The only blood that was found on him was Genji's and Genji's only. It was hard for her to appreciate that someone survived from that massacred train.

"Sign here, Mister Shimada. Things will be okay."

And yet, those words somehow comforted him even when his mother officially took him off the family register.

 **.x.**

The sound of ice clinking against each other was the only connection he had to earth. It had been a handful of years since. Hanzo had lost track of time. He had long since left his home country, Japan, and settled in America. The man didn't have anything to remind him of home so he had gotten a tattoo of the family's dragons from his shoulder to his arm. He had cut his hair short, but still long enough to put in a ponytail.

Over time, he assimilated and he kept an eye out for the Deadlock Gang.

"Yeah, you ain't heard of them? They're the ones who massacred everyone on that train that night. I'm surprised you haven't heard of them."

He would do odd jobs, mostly courier work within the state of New Mexico, in case he would hear of the gang again. And he did.

"Man, that McCree sure is something!" His ears perked as he took a bite of his long-awaited dinner. Still, he had to act like he didn't hear the familiar name. As time went on, and the more research he did, he would hear the name 'Jesse McCree' pop up here and there. Rumors made it apparent that he climbed the ranks and something about his infamous Deadshot. From the intel Hanzo had gathered, Jesse had been orphaned when he was young. For a while, he was in foster home after foster home and he didn't seem to have a very good adolescence. The young man had become a juvenile delinquent though often, it was because he kept stealing and didn't seem to stop no matter how much help the state offered him.

Hanzo didn't care about that. He just wanted to know where he was. Maybe he could help Hanzo regain his honor.

The ice clinked again as he tried to keep up his docile appearance although with the passage of time, it's getting harder and harder to do.

"I hear he's finally rising to the ranks of the gang!" the young punk behind him gloated. "Maybe my chances will rise since he's one of us!" He laughed in amusement. Hanzo couldn't help but assume he was in a similar situation – an orphaned juvenile delinquent looking for his place in this world.

A slap was heard – Hanzo assumed the punk was blabbing about things that he probably shouldn't have.

"Shut up, Kyle. Don't talk about that kind of shit when we're out in public like this. How many times I gotta tell you?"

"Sorry, sorry, I-I guess I got a little excited there, Jay. I-I promise that I won't mention that shit out in public again."

"You're lucky that guy over there probably don't understand English, or we'd be in some real deep shit."

When the punk named Jay pointed Hanzo out, he nearly choked on his sandwich. He slowly turned around and spoke. "You boys," Hanzo started.

"Oh shit," Jay said. As it turned out, the rough looking punk named Jay had quietly placed a gun on the table to ensure Kyle's, a skinny teenaged boy who could use some clean clothes and a shower, silence but it looked like it was in vain. Still, Hanzo was confident in the words he was about to say next would spare everyone's lives.

"Tell me how I can join the Deadlock Gang."


End file.
